true.’
‘Good!’
‘But,’ Craft pointed out, ‘you heard what Mr Grange said. When the gun fell on the grass, you could have stuck out your arm with a cane …’
‘What cane? I don’t carry a cane. Ask anybody. What do you think I am: a desiccated old fossil tottering to the edge of the grave?’
Here I thought I heard from the back seat a distinct sniff and snort of approval. But Craft was occupied with other matters. He was intently regarding the road ahead.
‘By the way, Doctor. I’ve just remembered.’ Craft cleared his throat. ‘When our little one was so ill last January, you were in to see him for three weeks on end, nearly every night. And you never sent in a bill. What might we owe you, now? Roughly?’
This rather bewildering change of subject made me blink. I could think of nothing which interested me less in the broad world.
‘My good Craft, how the devil should I know? I haven’t time to bother with things like that. Ask Tom. Maybe he knows.’
‘Or maybe not,’ said Craft. ‘For all the way he goes on, he’s just as foggy and loony as you. He seldom sends in a bill either; and then, mostly, he sends ’em to the wrong people. I’m trying to do the best I can for you!’
‘Look here: I don’t need any money.’
Craft gripped the steering-wheel more tightly.
‘Maybe not; but damned if you don’t need a lot of help. This inquest – you know that – is on Wednesday. And you’re under oath when you testify. You also know that?’
‘Certainly.’
‘Are you going to tell the same story at the inquest that you’ve been telling us?’
‘Why not? I tell you it’s true!’
‘Listen,’ said Craft. ‘The jury will almost certainly bring in a verdict for a suicide-pact. He shoots her; then shoots himself. In that case, they’re bound to add a rider saying you tampered with the evidence. And in that case ( now have you got it?) we shall have to arrest you for perjury.’
This was a beautiful thought, which I confess had not previously occurred to me.
I am not at a time of life where one enjoys being chucked into the cooler for telling truths. To younger men there seems something noble about this, though I have never quite understood why. Like Galileo, I am willing to go down on my knees and deny that the earth moves, if peace can be brought to the home thereby. But this was a personal matter.
‘You mean,’ I said, ‘that you won’t want to arrest anybody to whom you owe money?’
‘That’s about the size of it,’ Craft acknowledged. ‘If you’d only save us all a lot of trouble by telling the truth!’
‘I promise, so help me, to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.’
Craft contemplated me very suspiciously. You could see he was more or less bewildered and at a dead end, because he knew I wasn’t in the habit of lying and yet here were the apparent facts to prove it. I don’t blame him. If I had been in his place, I shouldn’t have believed myself. He craned round towards the back seat.
‘What do you make of it, sir?’ he asked. ‘As Mr Grange said, it’s the only way the thing could have been done.’
‘Well … now,’ growled H.M. ‘It’s those very words “only way” which make me distrust the whole business.’
‘You distrust it because it is the only way?’
‘Yes,’ said H.M. simply. ‘I wish Masters could hear you sayin’ that.’
‘But did you ever hear of a murderer who could float in the air?’
‘Oh, my son! You don’t know my history. I’ve seen a feller who was dead, and yet who wasn’t dead. I’ve seen a man make two different sets of finger-prints with the same hands. I’ve seen a poisoner get atropine into a clean glass that nobody touched.’ He sniffed. ‘As for a murderer floating in the air, I’m expectin’ to meet one any day. It would just round out my cycle before the old man goes into the dustbin.’
‘What dustbin?’
‘Never mind,’ glowered H.M. He looked at me. ‘See
‘Good!’
‘But,’ Craft pointed out, ‘you heard what Mr Grange said. When the gun fell on the grass, you could have stuck out your arm with a cane …’
‘What cane? I don’t carry a cane. Ask anybody. What do you think I am: a desiccated old fossil tottering to the edge of the grave?’
Here I thought I heard from the back seat a distinct sniff and snort of approval. But Craft was occupied with other matters. He was intently regarding the road ahead.
‘By the way, Doctor. I’ve just remembered.’ Craft cleared his throat. ‘When our little one was so ill last January, you were in to see him for three weeks on end, nearly every night. And you never sent in a bill. What might we owe you, now? Roughly?’
This rather bewildering change of subject made me blink. I could think of nothing which interested me less in the broad world.
‘My good Craft, how the devil should I know? I haven’t time to bother with things like that. Ask Tom. Maybe he knows.’
‘Or maybe not,’ said Craft. ‘For all the way he goes on, he’s just as foggy and loony as you. He seldom sends in a bill either; and then, mostly, he sends ’em to the wrong people. I’m trying to do the best I can for you!’
‘Look here: I don’t need any money.’
Craft gripped the steering-wheel more tightly.
‘Maybe not; but damned if you don’t need a lot of help. This inquest – you know that – is on Wednesday. And you’re under oath when you testify. You also know that?’
‘Certainly.’
‘Are you going to tell the same story at the inquest that you’ve been telling us?’
‘Why not? I tell you it’s true!’
‘Listen,’ said Craft. ‘The jury will almost certainly bring in a verdict for a suicide-pact. He shoots her; then shoots himself. In that case, they’re bound to add a rider saying you tampered with the evidence. And in that case ( now have you got it?) we shall have to arrest you for perjury.’
This was a beautiful thought, which I confess had not previously occurred to me.
I am not at a time of life where one enjoys being chucked into the cooler for telling truths. To younger men there seems something noble about this, though I have never quite understood why. Like Galileo, I am willing to go down on my knees and deny that the earth moves, if peace can be brought to the home thereby. But this was a personal matter.
‘You mean,’ I said, ‘that you won’t want to arrest anybody to whom you owe money?’
‘That’s about the size of it,’ Craft acknowledged. ‘If you’d only save us all a lot of trouble by telling the truth!’
‘I promise, so help me, to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.’
Craft contemplated me very suspiciously. You could see he was more or less bewildered and at a dead end, because he knew I wasn’t in the habit of lying and yet here were the apparent facts to prove it. I don’t blame him. If I had been in his place, I shouldn’t have believed myself. He craned round towards the back seat.
‘What do you make of it, sir?’ he asked. ‘As Mr Grange said, it’s the only way the thing could have been done.’
‘Well … now,’ growled H.M. ‘It’s those very words “only way” which make me distrust the whole business.’
‘You distrust it because it is the only way?’
‘Yes,’ said H.M. simply. ‘I wish Masters could hear you sayin’ that.’
‘But did you ever hear of a murderer who could float in the air?’
‘Oh, my son! You don’t know my history. I’ve seen a feller who was dead, and yet who wasn’t dead. I’ve seen a man make two different sets of finger-prints with the same hands. I’ve seen a poisoner get atropine into a clean glass that nobody touched.’ He sniffed. ‘As for a murderer floating in the air, I’m expectin’ to meet one any day. It would just round out my cycle before the old man goes into the dustbin.’
‘What dustbin?’
‘Never mind,’ glowered H.M. He looked at me. ‘See
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